


"And what did you do? Raise the Dead."

by AvidReader3019



Series: Pinescone Necromancy AU [4]
Category: Gravity Falls, Over the Garden Wall (Cartoon & Comics)
Genre: Bad Puns, M/M, Mason "I like to cause problems on purpose" Pines, Near Death Experiences, Necromancy, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:47:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26741611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvidReader3019/pseuds/AvidReader3019
Summary: The pinescone necromancy AU no one asked for. Dipper does necromancy. Wirt is essentially the grim reaper. Why does his job have to be so much harder than it should be?
Relationships: Dipper Pines/Wirt (Over the Garden Wall)
Series: Pinescone Necromancy AU [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1979681
Comments: 5
Kudos: 30
Collections: Over The Gravity Falls





	"And what did you do? Raise the Dead."

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! So just wanted to say a huge thank you to everyone on discord for being super duper nice and inspiring!! Couldn't have done even a fraction of this without all the support and warm fuzzies!
> 
> Edit: so this AU has evolved so much since I first started considering this was supposed to be a one and done thing but became a series and I wanted to go back and adjust some things before I continued so uh yeah same basic idea but a little more detail since there's a real solid plan for this now.

_ Come on. Come on.  _ Wind blows furiously through the surrounding pines causing them to sway like in one of those low-budget horror movies, but there’s still nothing of note, nothing new. No lengthening shadows. No earthquake. No weird magic glowing things. Nothing but an ordinary autumn evening. Leaves are scattering through the wind with a typically vibrant landscape now only illuminated by moonlight, throwing the whole scene into breathtaking contrasts of light and gradients of shadow, all lit beneath the swirling galaxy of vibrant stars... 

It  _ sucks _ .

The man in the middle of the clearing waits a few more moments before taking out his notebook to check the incantation  _ again _ , even though he is basically fluent in Latin by now and memorized this in particular, going over it for  _ weeks  _ before he was willing to test it out. Writing incantations isn’t his forte, but there isn’t a spell in existence that does what he needs, he’d know. He’s the leading expert after all, but even then, he’s tried everything. From a bunch of dusty old tomes he found all over, mostly from sketchy websites and even sketchier sellers, but it’s not like necromantic rituals are just easy to find; if they were he wouldn’t have a job, so he’s been reduced to making something on his own. 

He knows the words are fine after checking them over a dozen times, it’s definitely dark enough,  _ and _ there’s a supermoon (the closeness creating a shift in the electromagnetic field that he theorizes should be able to amplify his magic, and while it’s not proven yet, he wasn’t going to waste an opportunity) It’s also appropriately close to Samhain. He knows it’s just Halloween now, but he’s specifically counting on the barrier between life and death being a little more flexible which deserves a more official-sounding word, and besides if he says Halloween he sounds like an eager kid looking for candy, which he totally is—In fact, the first Halloween after he got a grip on his magic, he summoned a couple zombies to collect candy from everyone in town so he could get tons more candy. It was a perfectly reasonable use of his abilities that got way more pushback than it should have—but they’ll take away his creepy necromancer badge, well not really since he made it himself, but…  _ And  _ he even has a sacrifice laid out. Well, it’s just a teddy bear with the stuffing cut out of it-- he wasn’t going to hurt anyone or anything and it’s really the symbolism that counts, magic is weird like that, but still there’s just  _ nothing _ . Just like every other attempt, though not quite as elaborate as this one. He scratches the page out with a pencil and sighs, defeated.

It didn’t work. It never works, but he got his hopes up this time and he’s sick and tired of getting yelled at over and over again. The other rituals and things work just fine, but his boyfriend is always all “blah blah blah ethics quit disturbing forces you don’t understand blah blah.” He smiles at the thought. He’s really cute when he gets all worked up about that kind of thing. His eyebrows get all scrunched up, and it usually ends up with a kiss and everything is forgiven after a couple apologies and his famous puppy eyes, so with that, he trudges out of the forest, and to the graveyard across town, planning on continuing the regular old ritual, and enduring the lecture that's sure to follow.

It’s cold in the cemetery this time of year. Not necessarily from the chilly breeze, but more from the spirits drifting a little closer to tangibility than normal. The necromancer says his hellos to the ghosts, mostly just giving a vague wave with the energy drink he’s clutching, since his other hand is occupied with his notebook and satchel. 

They’re all looking pretty uh good?  _ Is that the word he should be using, probably not... _ He’s always able to see them, but now they look less like when your television antenna is slightly skewed and more... Not  _ human _ , they’re glowing and levitating which humans don’t typically do  except for a few eccentrics who use their magic for aesthetic, the amateurs , but they do seem happier? More _ grounded _ , if such a word can be applied. 

He pays special attention to the few who still owe him from their last few rounds of Blackjack. Ghosts don’t have money so they trade-in information, rituals, locations of lost texts... And he may not be able to collect tonight, but he sends a lopsided grin and little wiggle of his notebook their way as a reminder. Honestly, you’d think that a living person spending time with them would be payment enough, but instead, he sometimes gets sent on ridiculous quests to find ancient brands of weird snack foods that’ve been missing for ages. It’s actually pretty fun in a way that makes him not mind losing all that much, except for when more creatures get involved than harmless local ghosts and things get a little more complicated.

He approaches the back of the cemetery, ending near the treeline where the more recent corpses lie. Not to be unsettling, but a twentieth or twenty-first-century spirit who is still trapped here, he can ask for permission. Someone who died long ago has usually moved on or dissolved, and after a few incidents involving, the necromancer shivers just thinking of the word  _ paperwork _ , he decided to play it safe and ask “hey would it be alright if I just sorta borrowed your decaying former body? It’s just a tattered, squishy mess of meat and bone, it’s not like it’s really you anymore since ya know you’re right here and it’s not-- would that be uh alright?” To his surprise, it worked fairly well, and he now uses these back ten graves often enough that he built a little trap door so they wouldn’t have to keep crawling through the dirt. They might damage the body that way, and he wouldn’t be able to use it anymore, which is less than ideal. Plus, other than just regular maintenance and consent, you want your zombies as new as you can get ‘em, no one wants a shambling goo mess. That’s just gross and impractical. 

The necromancer sets his bag and drink down on the grass, reaching into the bag to haphazardly scatter some of his candles on the ground. Once they’re in a vague line, he steps back, and ignites them with a snap of his fingers. He watches the eerie green flicker for only a moment to make sure they withstand the slight breeze before he takes a deep breath, and utters some words he’s all too familiar with but not really aware of. He’s half zoned out and on autopilot after so many years, honestly wouldn’t be able to tell you the exact wording even if he tried. He uh, he’s a lot less focused than one would expect from someone raising a horde of the undead, (his very own army that can’t die and wow talk about a powertrip… good thing he doesn’t let it go to his head, well, mostly). When he’s finally finished mumbling the gibberish, he sits down behind the line of candles and takes a sip of the energy drink, waiting, listening for the groaning and creaking.

Sure enough, it only takes a minute for him to hear them crawling out of the ground, more accurately, a trap door in the ground. They’re painstakingly slow, but eventually, they’re finally out and at his command. Ten undying creatures ready to do his bidding, anything he commands--within their power of course--but he goes a little easy on them since they’re not the point of this whole stunt. His voice is loud enough for them to make out his words over the wind and well, they can’t hear the ghosts like he can, so they should be able to hear him fine, he’s not nervous! He’s just, there’s nothing worse than having to say the same thing twenty times because he forgot to speak up. “You guys know the drill. Go cause some low-level havoc. I don’t really care, but don’t hurt anyone and be back in say an hour? Does that work?” 

There are a few groans that he takes an enthusiastic yes and he watches them shuffle away for only a second, before turning back at breakneck speed to watch the trees intently. He’s bouncing on the balls of his feet, looking intently, his heart beating faster, and while he would never admit it under torture, the necromancer starts straightening out his hoodie and brushing his fingers through his hair, having to remove his hat for a second. It’s not that the guy will mind his appearance, he knows that, but he wants to look nice while receiving the lecture at least. Who knows? Maybe if he looks cute enough there won’t be a lecture? Plus, it’s uh been a while and maybe he wants to impress, just a tiny bit. He’s lost in these thoughts, lost in his fidgeting that has nothing to do with the two empty energy drinks in his bag when an annoyed voice comes from a shadow over by the treeline.

“Dipper. I thought I told you--” The shadow sighs. “You can’t keep doing this.”

He smiles, pulling his hat down to allow himself a second to process, only a moment to tone down the blush blossoming from the buzzing thoughts all focused on how that voice so easily banished his nerves. Second taken he looks back up, shy smile now more of a playful grin directed at where the shadow’s eyes should be. “Why hello there, sunshine! I’m a little disappointed, no ‘Hey! How’s life going?’ No ‘Wow babe, you’re gorgeous! Must’ve put a lot of thought into the whole disheveled look, I’m so turned on right now.’ You’re welcome by the way, I thought you’d be a little more enthusiastic about getting to ogle your super hot boyfriend.”

The shadows retreat into the woods other than a few tendrils at his feet and there stands Death—a being that even the most arrogant and talented of sorcerers fear—fidgeting with his soft, slightly-glowing sun sweater, directly contrasting with his glare that could kill. Said glare  _ would  _ be killing right now if it were anyone else standing there.

Wirt maintains his furious gaze as best he can, he almost slips and laughs, but just barely maintains his composure. “Now that’s not-- First of all, ‘babe’ is a horrible pet name, and second of all, I know for a fact that the “disheveled look” is your natural state that all the most powerful entities out there combined couldn’t fix, so uh not much to ogle when you look like you crawled out of a nearby tomb and stumbled your way over here.”

Dipper winces and starts to speak, to defend himself that,  _ no he was at home a couple hours ago thank you very much _ , but is swiftly interrupted while Wirt raises his arms in an encompassing gesture.

“And for the millionth time quit messing with the dead!” Wirt pinches the bridge of his nose, shadows coming to crawl back up his legs, and he closes his eyes for a minute to get them to back off before looking back up. Dipper notes with a small sigh of satisfaction,  _ there  _ is the cute brow squishing.

Wirt continues on a rant about natural law and all the paperwork he’ll be swamped in later, but Dipper doesn’t really hear any of it. Honestly, if he was less interested in self-preservation he’d laugh at the whole thing, but as it stands, he fights the expression, focusing on looking like he’s genuinely listening. Complete with purposeful nodding, his hand positioned in an “L” across the jaw and lips, the whole nine yards. He’s content to imagine scenarios of what comes after the lecture. They all involve mostly kissing and cuddling and uh more kissing a lot more kissing. Dipper’s hand that’s supposed to be in his “thinking” position falls a little flat since it’s now tracing his lip gently, imagining Wirt’s lips there instead… He sighs wistfully, it really has been too long.

Wirt doesn’t notice how far Dipper’s zoned out, staring off into the vague distance like he does sometimes, using his hand to number off points. “NOT TO MENTION YOU COULD GET KILLED OR WORSE AND IF I JUST GO OFF AND ZAP A BUNCH OF YOUR STUPID CORPSES U.R IS GONNA COME AFTER ME AND YOU KNOW HOW MUCH I HATE DEALING WITH CATHERINE THE AFFECTIONATE, OH THE IRONY SINCE SHE MAKES FILING A NIGHTMARE, AND--” He finally stares at Dipper, noting his nodding and position, and throws his hands up. “Have you been listening to  _ anything  _ I’ve been saying?”

Dipper feels his face warm at being thrown off his train of thought but he pieces together the most genuine mask of shock he can. “Of course! This is my listening face.” He nods for extra emphasis, swallowing down a laugh.

“No that’s your ‘I want him to think I’m listening so we can kiss and make up’ face.”

There’s silence for a moment.

“Well can we?”

Wirt scoffs and turns around. “Unbelievable.” 

Dipper steps after him, trying to come up with a way to stop him. Which, hey, he’s a competent necromancer he could definitely freeze him for like, a  _ second  _ at least, but Wirt whirls around before he can, and oh no this might actually be bad. His irises have gone all multicolored in that stunning way that leaves him a little speechless lost in deciphering all the shades, and Dipper isn’t sure whether it’s from terror or admiration, but breathing is no longer a thing. 

Wirt tries to stay calm he really does, but his dumb, inconsiderate,  _ asshole  _ of a boyfriend does this Every. Single. Time. Wirt.. ugh he shouldn’t be so upset, he knows that. Dipper only wanted to see him and he can’t blame him, he wanted to see Dipper too, so much that it hurt to breathe most of the time, but he had something set up a plan to match Dipper’s own complex schemes. He was going to cross over not even for a death just all on his own, this weekend in fact, and he was going to take Dipper to that coffeehouse he loves so much to surprise him with a date. Fully human-looking and everything! He’s been storing up the needed vacation hours for months now and finally gotten things in motion. He’s done his job well, kept his head down, even found a guy in the records department who owed him a small favor to cover his schedule for a couple days. It was all planned and perfect and then  _ someone  _ just had to mess with it. 

If Dipper wasn’t impatient as all hell and waited just a little bit longer, they’d be able to have days. Literal  _ days  _ together with nothing but cuddling and whatever else they decided to do, maybe nothing at all! Maybe they’d make pancakes or watch terrible horror movies or maybe Dipper would ask him a billion questions like they used to and they’d just listen to each other’s voices until it becomes the only sound they can remember. Wouldn’t that be nice? Now, if Wirt is lucky, they might just give him another uh  _ warning  _ to “scare the mortal into submission”. He will refuse to do so once again, leading to the termination of his saved up time off and he’ll definitely have some paperwork to fill out on the newest “careful imbalance of natural law” with glares from several other entities as he goes to add the report to Dipper’s  _ second  _ cabinet in the infraction room, already filling at an alarming rate. So now they likely have an hour if that.

_ Might as well not waste it, then _ . He might be a little frustrated, but he loves this man in front of him, even as an epic destroyer of romantic plans  _ Note to self: Don’t try to surprise Dipper unless failure is worth the risk. _ He can’t be too disappointed when the hour they’ve got is worth more to him than anything else. It’s not worth being upset over. With that in mind, he turns around to face Dipper again, "Let’s make the most of this” on the tip of his tongue, but Wirt pauses at the expression he catches. He’s not really sure what that emotion is across Dipper’s face, but it can’t be good. He waves a hand in front of his eyes, but Dipper doesn’t even blink. “Uh. You alright? What’s wrong?” No movement. Wirt grabs his shoulders gently, bending down to level with his unfocused eyes. “ _ Mason _ .”

That snaps him out of it. Woah. For about the trillionth time Dipper isn’t sure if it’s some sort of death power or if Wirt is just that stunning. He’ll have to run some tests, but uh later.  _ Later _ … He tries to pause the theories and cork boards already constructing themselves in his mind. That can wait. He coughs and straightens the ballcap on his head to cover the lapse. “Yeah of course I’m just fine, yep, just recovering from the verbal beating I got in return for my well-crafted,  _ careful,  _ complex spell.”

Wirt rolls his eyes and let’s go of his shoulders. “Honestly, calling what you did “careful” is far too generous.”

Dipper starts to protest but feels a finger press against his lips before he can. “The spell was sloppy at best. Your pronunciation is near nails on a chalkboard in relation to actual Latin and don’t even get me  _ started  _ on the command itself. ‘Cause some low-level havoc?’ The amount of damage they could cause with that kind of loose structure is staggering even with your intent directing the whole thing, and if they weren't just some dumb zombies I’d be dragging you over to hell with me this time.” 

He takes a breath, noting with a small amount of interest that Dipper seems to be leaning into his finger in a distracting sort of way, but no, he won’t be swayed by such lowbrow tactics. “It’s touching that you’re willing to break the laws of nature just to see me, really, but can’t you just-- I dunno, wait a couple days?” He mumbles a little quieter while shifting Dipper’s hat just enough to where he can play with a few stray curls, twining them around his fingers. “I had  _ plans,  _ you jerk.”

Dipper seems to be getting nowhere with the lip idea, so he plans to interlace their fingers instead while the softer words sink in. In all his plentiful knowledge that comes with seeing and studying creatures and magicks most mortals can’t even comprehend, he comes up with a suitably intelligent response. “Uh, what?” It’s still muffled against Wirt’s finger, but his expression must tell Wirt enough.

He gently exhales, not pausing in his absentminded gestures, thrilling in the way Dipper seems to lean into his touch somehow in both places at once. “I  _ said _ I had plans, and-” Wirt stops abruptly as an idea enters his mind. The perfect payback. It’s a little mean, but after the buckets of trouble he’s gone through for Dipper’s sake he’s earned a little teasing. Wirt takes a step back and gives a dismayed sigh that he doesn’t even need to fake. He stares at the ground, shrugging. “Now you’ll never get to know.”

Dipper’s eyes narrow dangerously, catching on to the implication immediately. His weakness, something Wirt is both aware enough and willing to exploit. “You wouldn’t.”

“Nothing can be done now I’m afraid.” It takes a herculean effort to keep a smile from taking over his features. “It’s over, now, done. We’ll never get to do it...  _ Ever _ .” Wirt tries to shed a few tears on command, and for this to work, he’ll have to. Withheld knowledge plus tears can get Dipper to do anything and it’s high time for those puppy eyes to meet their match. Luckily, it really doesn’t take anything more than thinking about a typical day of work to do the trick, a little depressing but effective.

Dipper is hopeless to do much more than stare in shock for a few seconds.

He was already out of it earlier with his eyes being that weird kaleidoscope of colors, but now there are droplets of black emanating from them—No, wait, black is an actual color. These seem to be sucking the light from everywhere except for his eyes, not that there’s much to absorb in the dark forest, but— Dipper has enough presence of mind not thrown into the research zone to realize they’re tears. He easily brushes away the intense urge to study what that liquid even  _ is _ and remains at a loss for words, he’s seen Wirt cry before but not this close and not from— it’s usually because he’s happy and all dumb and overwhelmed, like when he got his stupid sunshine sweater that he apparently still hasn’t taken off, but Dipper has never seen him cry because he’s upset and definitely not because of something  _ he _ caused.

Well, now he feels terrible. Dipper runs his hand along the back of his neck, staring at the pine needles under his feet, no longer able to meet those  terrifying , beautiful,  petrifying , gorgeous eyes.

Teasing aside, Dipper really loves his boyfriend, so, crying because of something  _ he _ did? Completely unacceptable. Especially when the cause isn’t something Dipper can blast away with magic, since his magic is what got them into this mess and Wirt won’t even tell him what the plan was which is so unfair—

_ Someone give me the worst boyfriend ever award. _

Oh man, he’s really done it now. Dipper knows he’s sort of a lot, but Wirt has always loved it and besides, this time he actually had a good reason! He wanted to see his boyfriend, it’s been  _ forever _ , and now… he’d give anything to take it back. He didn’t think this through. His ritual didn’t work and the thought of going through all of that along with his failure, and not even getting to see Wirt after because he screwed it up? He couldn’t stand the thought and didn’t bother thinking about any potential consequences.

Having creepy crawlies mess with you is just standard procedure for screwing with black magic, not to mention how many times more unsavory creatures have sought him out after hearing of his various experiments, but he’s never felt like  _ this. _ He’s just so helpless to do anything when it’s all his fault, when the person hurting is some he  _ lov-- _ , really cares about.

He can’t exactly kiss the problem away if he _ is  _ the problem. Dipper’s heart is aching in all sorts of uncomfortable ways, and not just because of the caffeine working its way through his system. He starts wringing his hands together, pacing. Almost wanting to reach out for Wirt several times, he tries, but stops a fraction of an inch away every time, not sure if that would make things worse. He’s trying to come up with an explanation, wanting to comfort Wirt somehow, but he doesn’t even  _ have  _ a good reason.

“Look I- I didn’t mean for. Actually, I guess I did… But I didn’t want  _ this  _ exactly. Or no wait that’s not what I mean. I obviously  _ want  _ this. You. For sure. I just don’t want you to be like this— I want  _ you,  _ of course, but not like this. Wait no. That’s wrong. I want you any sort of way. Oh yikes. I um that’s not what I- I don’t- I didn’t think-” Dipper just sighs, utterly defeated, and pushes his hat down far enough to hide his face stinging with the start of tears.

It takes him a few seconds to collect his thoughts but his voice is small and rough when he speaks, very obviously choked up. “I’m sorry is my point.” In a softer voice, barely audible, he adds. “I-- uh I’ll do the paperwork for you and actually wait next time? Please don’t be mad at me? I just-- I needed to see you... I guess I messed everything up and I’m sorry.”

Wirt immediately regrets everything. His entire existence, everything he’s ever done,  _ ever _ . The stuttering mess was a lot more than expected, and then the— oh no he offered to do  _ paperwork. _ He didn’t want Dipper near tears, it was just-- After everything surely he doesn’t think-- Wirt couldn’t possibly be like  _ really _ upset with him, never. He just wanted to tease Dipper like how he gets teased all the time but he doesn’t do it often and it must have been jarring and weird and he wouldn't want Dipper to ever even come close to thinking that he was serious!

It’s the offer to help with the reports that really does it; Dipper absolutely despises paperwork in any form. There’s no way he’d offer that even as a joke knowing Wirt might just take him up on it, so Wirt decides to try and end this with as little hurt as possible, kiss and make up like Dipper wanted earlier. He steps forward and lightly tilts Dipper’s chin upward to meet his eyes. They’re misty and glazed over and his expression is  _ far  _ too hesitant and Wirt can’t _ stand  _ to see that expression on that face. His boyfriend’s face is one built for happy self-assured expressions: easy laughter, teasing smirks, and those troublemaker grins that make Wirt weak in the knees.

This isn’t worth it anymore, probably wasn’t in the first place, nothing is worth this, so Wirt offers a fragile smile; gently running a thumb along Dipper’s jawline while speaking in a soft, hesitant tone. As if anything louder would scare his necromancer off. “Guess I won this one, huh?”

Dipper sniffles, unconsciously relaxing his head into Wirt’s hand before the words register, causing him to jump backward in surprise. “Y-you played me!?  _ You _ . You- I just- No this isn’t fair!”

Wirt laughs at Dipper’s incredulous expression and childlike response. The tears dry immediately in favor of outrage and everything is suddenly fine again, they’re fine. Of course they’re fine, they’ve been through so much worse, so why on Earth would he ever question it? It seems silly in retrospect and they both are laughing at their actions, Wirt shaking his head fondly and Dipper pouting in the most adorable way possible. 

Of course Wirt would play him like that, he might be the only person in existence that’s able to. Dipper is used to winning, to getting what he wants. Necromancy is a field filled with megalomaniacs after all, and Dipper isn’t the exception, but Wirt is able to put him in his place in the sweetest way. When he’s feeling a little too invincible Wirt is there to knock him down a couple pegs before he hurts himself doing something completely stupid, but more than that he always hears Dipper out and his suggestions and warnings are because he cares, Wirt never lets his questions of ‘are you sure about this?’ go from concern to a lack of trust. If Dipper seriously says he’ll be fine, he drops the questions instantly, not even chiming in with an ‘I told you so’ if things go exactly as he predicted. Most of the time things go fine and Wirt gets teased for worrying too much, but he respects Dipper’s right to make horrible decisions and any time he knocks him back to reality from the more ridiculous ideas, “No Mason I’m not-- I will not help you a Utahraptor skeleton, that’s where I draw the line! Not just for your sake but society as a whole!” they both know it’s done out of a deep affection. It’s grounding, and never  _ ever  _ intended to hurt or belittle in any way.

Unaware of Dipper’s musings, Wirt can’t help but bend down slightly to capture his pouting lips and Dipper reciprocates eagerly with an intensity that might’ve been surprising months ago, but Wirt now knows is just an integral part of who he is. Dipper is incapable of doing anything halfway, pours everything he has even into such a mundane gesture every time they do this, leaving Wirt breathless despite the fact that he doesn’t have to breathe. He strives to always match that ideal, to give Dipper everything he demands, which isn’t exactly a short list, but he matches it more often than not, tenfold if he can manage. 

Wirt smiles and moves to hold Dipper’s face with one hand, using the leverage to deepen the kiss and explore territory he’s been denied for so long. He tries to pour all his love and longing since the last time they were able to hold each other like this into the connection and if he doesn’t make both of them a little dizzy he’ll consider it a failure. Oh well, just an excuse to try again…

It takes a while for them to separate even a fraction, lost in each other as they are, not sure where one begins and the other ends, but when they  _ do _ manage to break away, they’re giggling, a little lovestruck, and stupid as always. Dipper’s eyes are unfocused, but his smile is soft and his cheeks are dusted with a rosy tinge that Wirt can’t help but press feather-light kisses to. He pulls away slightly, just enough to admire as he continues holding Dipper’s cheek, thumbing along his cheekbone gently. He flicks Dipper’s signature hat to the side and out of the way to allow room enough for him to bring their foreheads together, pressing as close as possible while waiting for his necromancer’s breathing to return to somewhere close to normal.

They linger for a while, drinking in one another through contact, savoring these dwindling moments of reconnection. Wirt starts twirling his fingers lazily through Dipper’s curls right at the nape of his neck while Dipper runs his hands along Wirt’s back and sides to trace slow patterns. All stays silent in the woods, both of them happy content just to be with one another even surrounded by darkness and decay, the leaves cracking on the ground of the cemetery feeling somehow symbolic of the death of the precious moments they have left. There’s nothing but the sound of breathing and wind through trees, neither of them daring to break this moment, until Wirt remembers--

“Were you serious about the paperwork, though?”


End file.
